


Call Me Papa

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Assassination Plot(s), Comfort/Angst, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Frottage, I Mean Listen To The Laugh In Faith, Inappropriate Erections, It's A Sin, Italian Character(s), Kissing, Lap Sex, Light Angst, Neck Kissing, Power Kink, Power Swap, Pre- A Final Tour Named Death, Rats, Riding, Smut, Switching, Teasing, Vaginal Sex, You Can't Tell Me Copia's Not At Least A Little Evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23460178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Copia worries over his role in the clergy and what's to come behind the scenes of his final ritual. You're there to remind him every set of rules has a loophole.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	Call Me Papa

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born of two things-- one, I found it interesting how Copia specifically covered It's A Sin. I found the song really paralleled his struggle to live up to the clergy's expectations, so I wanted to explore that further. Also, I wanted to go for a bit of a Macbeth/Lady Macbeth feel with this story. Reader nudges Copia in the right (wrong?) direction, for the good of both of their futures.

You put your makeup bag down, searching for that last accessory that would complete your outfit. You've got a red velvet party dress on, small diamond grucifixes glinting in your earlobes by the light of the candles. You just need one last touch.

"Almost ready." You wait expectantly, smiling. This is your lover's cue to pop in behind you, picking out just the thing he knew would make you look dazzling. Tonight, he was taking you out for a night on the town, a nice meal, drinks and dancing, to celebrate tomorrow night's final gig.

You try again. "This outfit, it's got no pizazz. I wonder what I could add..." Still no Copia. You poke your head out from behind the mirror, and see him sitting on the edge of your bed, fingers nervously stroking over one of his rats. Your smile fades.

"Copia? What's wrong?"

He sets his rat down, and it scampers around his feet. "...Will you call me eminence?"

"Why?"

"Just do it." You raise an eyebrow. "...Just for shits and giggles, I want to see how it sounds." You hum.

"Whatever you desire. Eminence," you whisper in his ear, rubbing your hand down the front of his shirt. He sighs again, takes your hand in his. "What's this all about?" you ask. He shakes his head.

"When I look back at what my life has been, I always seem to be filled with a sense of shame." When you realize he's serious, you stop undoing his shirt buttons and sit back.

"You've accomplished more for the church than any of the past Papas."

"Three won a Grammy."

"And you were nominated."

"Eh." He waves his hand.

"I happen to be incredibly proud of what you've done. There's no shame in doing things a little differently-- the clergy needed someone like you to keep things fresh."

"Mm. You flatter me. You see better than anyone, I have done everything in my power to bring Satan to the people. I have had a bestselling album, I have had sold out shows, and still! He casts those pale eyes my way, like I'm the son of God himself!" You shiver at the idea, and feel sympathy pull at your heartstrings.

"Nihil?"

"Yes," he murmurs. "I am always to blame when it comes to him. I am at a complete loss as to how I am supposed to please him."

"You don't need his approval. They all know how good a leader you are. I know," you say softly, resting your head on his shoulder. "Just look at how many conversions we received this year after the rituals."

"I know, mio caro. I know. But I grow weary. Everything I long to do, everything I accomplish, it doesn’t matter," he mutters, "It's a sin."

"I should hope so, being the frontman of the Satanic Ministry," you deadpan.

"You know what I mean."

"Mm. You wouldn't be in The Old One's good books when one day you meet him if you didn't sin at least once a day." This gives you another perfect segue into popping more buttons, until--

"Maybe I'll get to meet him sooner than I thought." You raise an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

Copia turns to you, crossing his legs on the bed. "You can't tell me you haven't thought it. It's a sure thing. I know it, the ghouls know it. I'm sure Papa is just chomping at the bit to get it over with, take back the glory of his early years I have somehow stolen from him. I may be on the dimmer side sometimes, but not when it comes to this-- the last Papas weren't expecting it, but I have my eyes wide open."

The truth was, you had been thinking of nothing but what he was referring to for the past week. Tonight was to be your distraction from the very real probability that Copia would end up like the last three successors after his last show... embalmed in a coffin. The only difference with Copia would be, his corpse would not be decorated in papal robes. That felt unjust.

"You'll be excommunicated," you suggest, "Worst case scenario."

"Ah, you are optimistic, my love."

"So are you!" you say, desperation itching behind your voice, "Who was the one who convinced me you hadn't done any real damage to that tour bus when you accidentally left your nightlight burning on the way to Portland?"

"It was a security candle," he mutters, "You have no idea how terrifying it is to run into Dew perched in the dark at 3AM. But I see your point." He mulls it over, stroking his chin. "Excommunication... yes, that is about as likely as you only wanting one orgasm." He gives you a look. "No fucking dice." You search your mind for a different reassurance, but Copia puts up his hands, quieting your thoughts. "Let us enjoy one last night. I will make it very special, yes…" He brushes his knuckles against your cheek affectionately, and chuckles. "I will shake my ass, tell jokes, while you... look at me like I am your whole entire world." His one white eye stares at you intensely, seemingly into your soul. "Will you tell me you love me tonight, my beautiful one?" His eye gives you pause. It reminds you of the past Papas, and gives you a moment of clarity.

"No."

"No?" His eyes widen a little. "A-heh. Now is not the time for scares (y/n), I am incredibly unstable and will break down crying without a good wallop of affection here." You stand, beginning to pace.

"No. You're not going to be picked off like some inconsequential that the Ministry can replace. That's not who you are." He shakes his head, sitting forward in curiosity as you go on. "Nihil wants to rise to power again? Let him try. During Miasma tomorrow night, he plays his last solo."

"You want him to play the sax solo?" Copia hesitates. "Not to state the obvious (y/n), but despite his ambition to play again, the man carries around a goddamn respirator."

"Yes, which is perfect," you nod. "That'll make it look like an intentional last hurrah."

Copia watches you closely, the gears in his head turning along with yours. He lays back on his forearms. "You are suggesting I have him killed." His accent makes the implication sound diabolical.

You nod again, walking over to slowly creep your way into his lap. "It's a flawless plan. Any ghoul will do it for you. Look at how loyal they are to you after you've proved yourself this tour. It's sick, how far they would go for you." You straddle him, his gloved hands reaching up to hold you. "With Nihil dead, no one stands in your way."

He hasn't gotten that far yet. "My way to what... exactly?" You lean in, brushing his hair aside and whispering in his ear:

"Becoming Papa."

His fingers tighten their grip on you, and he inhales sharply. You can tell he likes the idea, his cock stirring in his pants.

"Papa the Fourth," he muses, "It has a nice ring to it, no?" You grin, starting to rock gently against his tented bulge.

"It's fate. You could bring about the Armageddon Papa III could only sing about with the power you'll wield." He exhales, feeling himself harden even more.

"I don't have much time to orchestrate the deed," he whispers back, connecting his forehead with yours. He traces his finger down your neck to the beginning of your cleavage, biting his lip. "I must get to the ghouls before he does."

"Ah. Work on that tomorrow," you tell him. "Everyone has to see you out tonight, celebrating like it's the last time before it's all over for you. That's what they think. That's what you're supposed to think." He lets out a low growl, finger tucking under your chin.

"My lover, my savior. The fire in my loins burns for you eternal." You ghost your mouth over his, barely feeling his mustache graze your top lip. His hands reach beneath to support your thighs as he closes the gap between you two. You press your lips to his. He welcomes you, his tongue tastes your lips, experienced ministrations working your mouth open until you're moaning. You break away after the kiss, heated breath mingling with his. He nudges his hips up, hopeful that you’ll finally allow him to take what he needs. You grant it with a smile, and reach down. One touch alone draws a low moan from him, his chest vibrating against yours. His fingers come up to find purchase on your shoulder, but slide down helplessly as you reach into his pants.

“Ah,” he hisses, eyes sliding shut, “Sono così eccitato. I want to be inside you so fucking bad, mio caro.”

“Be a good boy, and wait,” you whisper. He lets out a shaky breath, tracing slow lines beneath your breast, pattering his fingers like he doesn’t know what else to do. You bite your lip as your hand comes in contact with his cock, hard and ever so slightly wet with the drip of precum down the length. “You’re filthy,” you groan in his ear, and he shudders, cock pulsing from your words. “Getting hard, thinking of what you’re going to do tomorrow night. What you’re going to become.” He goes to speak, but trails off into oblivion as you stroke your fist up. “You never fail to impress me, Cardinal.”

Something takes over in his eyes, and he growls. “Call me Papa.”

“Mm. Yes. Please Papa,” you moan softly, “I’m ready for you to fuck me.”

He mutters something between a curse and an anxious noise, before sliding his hand up your back to hold you from the base of your neck in his lap. He uses his free hand to hold his cock, as you lift up your skirt, pull aside your pretty red panties and slide down over him.

“Ahhh, ahh,” he breathes, head tilting back. You tuck locks of his hair behind both ears, and gently pull him back to look at you. The usual intensity in his stare doesn’t disappoint, and once you’re fully seated on him, he thrusts his hips up in a powerful rut, making sure he drives every inch of himself as deep as he can. _‘Papa’_ tumbles from your lips like a prayer, and it only eggs him on. His low grunts ascend in volume as he rolls his hips up.

“I am going to fuck you so good,” he rasps, and you grind down onto him, holding onto his shoulders as you bounce in his lap.

“Papa… Papa, Papa, per favore, please…”

“Shit… ah, damn, I’m—”

“Are you…?”

“I’m so close, I’m gonna fucking-- I have… to… ah,” he groans, trying to hold back. You slow your grinding a bit, helping him calm down, and he reaches down to rub circles around your clit.

“Oh,” you whisper, head falling forward over his shoulder, “ _Oh_ , yes.”

“Does that feel good?” His honeyed voice melts over you. “Tell Papa how good it feels.”

“It’s amazing,” you moan. “Don’t stop.”

“You love what these fingers can do, eh?”

“I do, I love it… oh. You’ve got another thing on Nihil—no matter what he thinks you are, he can’t take away the fact that you’ve got the sex appeal he could only dream of. You’re so fucking hot.”

He presses fervent kisses down your neck. “Ohh, say it again, satana dammi forza…” 

“Nihil can’t fuck like you can,” you whisper, “And tomorrow night, you’ll make sure of that for good.”

You dig your fingernails into his back, the stimulation of his gloved fingers on your clit and his suit rubbing you as well bringing you close. Another low moan from him sends shockwaves of arousal through you.

“Use it,” he commands, “Use my cock. Use it to cum, cum on your Papa’s _cock_.”

“Fuck,” you cry out, and capture his lips as your orgasm finally burns through you. He feels your walls clench around him, and can’t hold back any longer. As your body floats through the bliss, you feel him cum inside you too, your pussy milking him. He gives one last grunt of satisfaction, and buries his face in your chest. A few minutes of holding one another later, you get off of him, and stand by the edge of the bed.

“I never thought I’d fuck a Papa,” you breathe, smoothing your skirt out.

“I am not a Papa yet,” he says sheepishly.

“I’d say you’ve fallen into your role quite easily,” you scoff, and fix your lipstick in the mirror. "Come on. Let's celebrate your last night on earth as Cardinal properly, shall we? We have until morning to take care of the next few orgasms."

“Aha, there it is. What did I tell you?” he chuckles. “You know I'm going to spend hours licking that pussy later, greedy.”

“I just know what I want,” you smirk.

“Yes. And I’m very lucky it is me,” he nods, getting up. Picking up his rat, he tucks him into a golden cage on the table, one you keep in your bedroom for occasions of Copia visiting you in the night with one of his strange pets. After tickling the beloved rodent's whiskers and closing the door with a promise of cheese later, Copia joins you.

"Ah shit, wait, wait, wait!" He stops you, putting both hands up.

"What?" You sigh. "Did you forget your belt again?"

"No, no. It's you. You look astonishing, you do, but something... something is missing." He looks you up and down, patting his lips. Then it hits him. He holds a gloved finger up, digs around for a moment in a small ornate chest, before picking something out. "Aha. The finishing touch." He places a teardrop diadem on your head.

You check your reflection and take his arm, a wicked smirk curling at your lips. Perfect for the lover of the Ministry’s new Papa.

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's been widely speculated that Copia had nothing to do with Nihil's death, but where's the fun in that? For now I'm keeping this tagged as alternate canon, until the murder plot comes to light...
> 
> Anyway, come talk to me @kissthegoghuleh on tumblr!


End file.
